He has, he will, he won't
by riana-isaddictedto-drarry
Summary: Draco Malfoy was dead really. He had been dead for so long. There was simply nothing left to live for.  There is no sex and really no mention of an ACTUAL relationship between them in here, but I swear it's a good read.


A/N: This is about self harm. It may trigger. I'm sorry. Feel free to give me feedback; it would be greatly appreciated.

It was such a casual thing for him to do now, after all this time. About three years now, he thought to himself grimly, watching another drop of liquid trail down his white skin, staining a path behind it, to remind him of his past. He put away his implement, his tool, his only friend; his razor. It was shocking really, that although he always had and seemingly always would live in luxury that he had chosen a plain, small steel blade as his choice of weapon. But the money affected him little anymore. Nothing affected him anymore... Not after these past two years of terror and failure. The memories and the pain they brought oozed out of his mind much like the blood oozed out of his wrist, staining faded black skin red.

Draco Malfoy was dead, really. He had been dead since his third week into his sixth year at Hogwarts. He had taken the Dark Mark proudly in front of the Dark Lord only two weeks before school started. Only two weeks to gloat and be proud before his entire world came crashing down around him, coming from his best friend, Blaise of all people.

"Draco, I spoke to my father. He... the Dar- V-V-Voldemort... He killed your father, Draco. Simply because he was angry." He had told Draco, his normally chocolate skin ash-gray and his eyes wide, haunted- Draco reflected. Draco had began to understand from that point on, his mistake; his father's mistakes too. His father was gone, his mother's life was in Draco's own shaking hands, and he had been set the task of killing Dumbledore in order to save her.

"Kill your pathetic headmaster, youngest Malfoy, and I shall spare your disgusting mother." Voldemort had said. And so, Draco had tried. He had nearly killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley in his feeble attempts... he just couldn't kill. He wasn't able. And so, when the time came and Snape had killed Dumbledore, Draco had been relieved until he got back. He had been requested by his Lord, and once Draco had entered a large, hollow chamber filled with his bruised mother and deranged Lord, Voldemort had, without so much as a glance at Draco, stunned the sixteen year old and made the boy watch his mother writhe in pain under the Cruciatus curse until her mind had broken, at which point he had simply killed her. Draco refused to cry, but in that moment; he was alone. His two parents were gone, his aunt was crazy, and his best friend would barely talk to him; being neutral in the war. He was left with Pansy, who was trying desperately to deflect to the Light, because she had seen Voldemort kill her parents and brother simply because he could. But then the summer of their sixth year came, and Draco was forced to give his Manor to Voldemort and his other Death Eaters, had to live with them. It was in that time he figured out how much he loved this release. He had been cutting tiny bits since the day his father died. One a week, maybe. But by the time the first week of summer had passed, Draco's entire left arm was a mess of cuts so thick and red that the Mark was no longer existent. That summer for Draco was a haze of hiding in his room, cutting, and crying, unless he was summoned to watch tortures. He was never asked to kill again, which he could only thank Merlin for.

The summer passed and when he returned to Hogwarts, his life was worth nothing. He told Pansy and Blaise his feelings about the Dark, and they struggled together through the mess of loyal Slytherins, angry Gryffindors and watchful teachers; just trying to survive. And they had survived; until the day in which Voldemort stormed into the school with thousands of followers and demanded cooperation or children would begin to die. It was terrible, really, to see the teachers Imperious'ed to bow to the Dark Lord, and seeing him Crucio any student he felt like on his way. It was horrible, it was frightening, and it was a waiting game; praying Potter would come kill this mutated megalomaniac.

Draco could count ninety three cuts on his left arm, four students dead, and twelve days that Voldemort had been roaming the Castle freely. It was on this day that all the students were called into the Great Hall, where Potter made his grand appearance. Potter had hexed Death Eaters left and right, while Voldemort had apparated away from the bravest boy to date, in Draco's eyes. The members of the Light; the Order of the Phoenix poured into the school, and the war was on. Light against Dark, House against House, brother against sister, people dropped lifeless left and right. Draco cast shields and carefully followed Potter through the burning Castle and corpse piles, wanting to see the Dark Lord die so badly that saving others didn't matter. That seemed to be in all their minds, because Blaise and Pansy followed him; wanting the same satisfaction. It was in the rubble-filled Court Yard that Draco heard the words that still surprised him leave Harry Potter's mouth.

"Tom, you're weak. You can't know love, and therefore, I will destroy you." He had said coldly, never looking away from the pale-skinned abomination before him, even as curses flew all around, people still dying all around them. Harry had screamed Expelliarmus and Voldemort, Avada Kedavra in sync, their two magics bursting; screaming out of their brothered wands and met in the middle, red matching green. Draco realized almost immediately that the rumors were true. Harry Potter and Voldemort had the same phoenix feather in their wand cores, and so; they could not defeat each other. Draco's eyes widened in horror as Harry's magic grew depleted and Voldemort grew smug. Draco felt his eyes sting as his world seemed to close in on him. Potter was his last hope.

"Harry Potter. They boy who lived, come to die." Voldemort cried maniacally, and they both broke their spells, glaring at each other.

"What are you expecting here, Tom?" Was Harry's reply, but Voldemort's answer was simply to send a handful of curses flying all around the square, killing his own and his opposition without care.

"Not such a hero to let your friends die instead of you, Harry." the other cried, watching the war unfolding around them. An Avada Kedavra flew past Draco and he barely registered it until he heard a thump beside him and turned to see Pansy lying cold beside him. A pained cry left his and Blaise's lips at the same time as they kneeled next to their other oldest friend. They had stood protectively in front of her body, turning cold gazes to Voldemort who simply laughed.

"How cute, Draconis. You actually cared about someone. Certainly not your mother, hmm? You did watch me torture her without so much as a flinch." he said, his voice high and mocking. Draco hid his shudder and took a couple large, stilted steps towards the middle of the square, ending up only a foot behind Harry.

"I loved my mother, and my father, and my best friend Pansy. You took all I had." he said, his voice breaking at the last word. He walked next to Potter, and turned to him, eyes devoid of emotion. "Help me." he murmured to the brunette before him, whose face was dirty and firm. He handed his wand to Harry, muttering the words _Nunc Tuum Est _and feeling his ability to use a wand leave him as he gave his mastery of the hawthorn wand over to his last hope. But not having a wand didn't matter then, as Harry stood in front of him, protected him, and cast a wordless spell at Voldemort, whose eyes were widening as he realized what Draco had done. Their magic met again in a large explosion. Only this time, the wand in Voldemort's hand, the one he had stolen from Dumbledore; the Elder Wand, fought against Voldemort too. Because it was, in reality, Harry's, and it had decided, within its magical self, to refuse its current holder. The wand, in a large fanfare, flew out of Voldemort's cold, dead hand as his body turned to dust before the crowd, and landed in Harry's hand, who looked at it blankly and then turned to his friends in a sort of daze.

There was silence. Then shuffling. People moving the dead into the Great Hall. The Light had lost Snape Lupin, Tonks, Ginny, Pansy, Lavender, Padma, Parvati, Dean, Crabbe, Goyle, Susan Bones, Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Collin and Dennis Creevey, Flitwick, and many more. There was silence as people piled bodies up to be buried on the Hogwarts Grounds. Then came quiet sobs or cries of pain as more loved ones were identified and piled up. Potter came up to him and handed him his wand. Not his old hawthorn wand, but Harry's own holly one, passing Draco the mastery of the unfamiliar wand without even a word. Harry nodded his thanks and then walked away, into a mess of children. Draco wondered vaguely just how powerful the other boy was, to give up the mastery of a wand with no words.

The trials later were blessedly short. He had gotten off clear, as had everyone else in Hogwarts who had aligned with the Dark. All the real Death Eaters had died in the war. Every last one. No one got an Order of Merlin, or was idolized in the Prophet as a War Hero. Why would they? Ninety percent of the soldiers had been children! Barely eighteen for most of them. And so, during the following year, Hogwarts had been rebuilt and re-opened.

Draco finished his reminiscing and looked down at his arm where, under the cuts, Draco could SWEAR he could see an outline of the Dark Mark, even though anyone else with a Mark in the school reported it gone.

Slowly, people had began to move on... Including Draco. He had mourned his parents properly, sold the Manor to be used for an orphanage. He and Blaise had buried Pansy; as her parents had died before the war. He wasn't upset about the war every day now. Now, he was addicted. Addicted to the control... the realization that no matter what ANYONE said, this pain was his alone to manage. And it was in the early days of November when he'd been caught. It hadn't been a particularly good idea, really; to cut in the prefect's tub. But Blaise was a prefect and he'd wanted a bath and his old cuts were beginning to fade and he needed new ones and the bottle of bubbles had been perfect to transfigure into a replica of his razor under his pillow. He was sitting in the tub, on a ledge, watching the water around him slowly turn pink, when a noise startled him.

"Malfoy?" Came the voice of the person who had just entered, despite his locking wards. He turned around with a sneer already plastered on his pale face, when he caught a view of Harry Potter. His face dropped and he looked down at the floor.

"Hello, Potter. I'll only be a minute if you want the tub." he said quietly, just wanting to get out and be alone. Potter didn't seem to be having it though, because he put his things on a bench and walked carefully up to the tub, crouching beside Draco and holding his hand out near Draco's chest.

"Let me see." He murmured, looking at Draco's face searchingly. The blonde blinked in confusion and Harry looked at his left side. "Your arm, please." He said in the same quiet tones. Draco knew he'd only be found out later if he dragged it on, so he brought his arm out of the water and showed Potter the myriad of new and old cuts and scars covering his left inner arm. Harry sucked in a breath quickly but nodded, letting go of Draco's hand and standing to pull his jacket off. He was wearing a blue t shirt underneath and he flipped his left arm over to show Draco too many little white lines to count. "Six years." he whispered, running a blunt fingertip over the little bumpy lines gently. "I keep the scars to remind me how close I've been to throwing away what people have sacrificed for... My life." He looked down at Draco, and nodded to say he understood. "Do you want help? Or do you need a friend?" He asked the blonde before him, who, despite his much taller stature, appeared smaller than Harry at this time. Draco looked up with a sneer on his face.

"Always the Hero, Potter." he said, suddenly angry. "I just want to die. Leave me alone." He whispered. Harry shook his head almost bitterly.

"I want to help. I don't want to save you. I want to show you how to save yourself. I want to show you the reasons to live." He said, in a voice that was so small Draco barely recognized it. He sunk lower into the water and thought to himself, knowing that Harry wouldn't move until he got his answer.

"Potter... I—I'm a Malfoy. Malfoy's are not- I'm not... I can do – I'm f... fine." He stuttered, his childhood filled with etiquette and rules running through his head. Harry's rough hand landed on his right shoulder, startling him.

"Draco; the bravest thing anyone can do, is admit they need help. If you don't, how can you expect to survive?" He asked quietly, sitting on the wet edge of the pool-sized tub, figuring he'd be here for a while.

"Brave." Draco murmured, remembering that Harry hadn't defeated Voldemort alone... He'd needed Granger and Weasley and … Himself. He'd needed Draco's wand. He'd needed help. It was in this moment that Draco physically felt his previous hatred for the Gryffindor in front of him dissipate; and it was replaced by a primal need to be cared for. "Help me." He whispered into the cavernous room, running manicured fingers across closing wounds and surprising himself when a quiet sob ripped out of his chest. Harry stood and reached for a light green terry robe which was on a rack and held it out, open for Draco.

"I won't look." he reassured the blonde, looking away as Draco stepped into it, out of the warm water. He was quickly enveloped in a tight hug from the shorter man before him, and he awkwardly put his arms around Harry, breathing quietly. "It's okay not to be okay." he whispered. Draco's chest tightened and his breath became labored and harsh as he fought tears. "Being hurt or scared or lonely or any other emotion doesn't make you weak." he said, just as quietly into Draco's shoulder.

They stayed that way long into the night, Harry holding Draco while he cried, telling him over and over that it was simply okay to be fucked up; that being broken made you stronger if you healed.

After Draco could finally stand on his own, he simply nodded at Harry and left without a word. And Harry let him, because he knew that Draco needed to accept everything before he could begin to heal.

It was months before Draco would speak to Harry again. Sure, they worked together occasionally in Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts, but there was no mention of that night; so Harry left it alone. It wasn't until February when Harry was sitting on a rock by the Black Lake, speaking quietly to a garden snake when Draco approached him again. Harry apologized to the snake and turned to partially face Draco, and put his hand, palm up, in between them, in case Draco needed comfort. He remained still and silent except for that, because he wanted Draco to talk this time, and all Draco would need was someone to listen.

Draco watched Harry place his open hand beside him, and watched how patiently the other man waited for him to talk. He carefully extended a pale, thin hand and placed it in Harry's. The brunette squeezed gently but didn't turn to Draco, just watched as the Giant Squid's tentacles breached the water and reached lazily up to the sky.

When Draco did talk, he couldn't stop. He told Harry everything from the day he had gotten his admission letter for Hogwarts. His admiration of Harry, his anger at being rejected. The way his father glorified the Dark Lord and how it had hurt to take the mark. Having to watch his mother die after he'd failed to kill Dumbledore but still had to watch him die. The horror of realizing, just for a second, that Harry might not be able to kill Voldemort, and how he hated Slytherin and his name and his father for making him cold and unable to process his emotions. Every detail about his years at Hogwarts was raked over and told meticulously, and when he was finally done, he sat very still, ignoring the tears dripping down his face.

Harry sat still, waiting for Draco to calm down before he finally turned to the blonde and put his unused arm in the air, in a gesture for a hug. Draco released his other hand instantly and almost climbed into Harry's lap, shaking and sniffing. It was nearly dark now, and after a while, Harry pulled back just a fraction.

"You were so brave, Draco. So brave and so strong." He sighed, barely audible except to Draco. Harry repeated the words over and over until eventually, Draco nodded. Harry squeezed him a bit tighter for a second and then let go, allowing the blonde to stand before standing himself. He looked at Draco critically for a moment and knew the blonde would need to be able to reach Harry at random times; when he needed support. He brought the magically shrunken Mauradr's Map from his back pocket and enlarged it, handing it to Draco like the treasure it was. "'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good' to open it; and 'mischief managed' to close." He said quietly. "Gryffindor password is Arbiter. Boy's dormitory is on the left. If you ever need me, to stop you, to clean you up, to talk to you, to listen... for anything" He stressed the anything, "Come find me." He gestured at the map and lightly touched Draco's shoulder lightly and left, allowing Draco the space to find him when he needed help.

And find him, Draco did. Not often, but about once or twice a week. Randomly showing up, awkwardly clearing his throat when Ron or Hermione was around. But Harry would immediately silence whoever he was with, get up, and leave with Draco. Never once making him wait. Harry would just sit and listen to Draco talk about his life and comfort him after, like always. It was surreal to Harry, that Draco had rather rapidly become so dependent on him, but he loved the changes in the Slytherin he had begun to notice; like his fascinating blush.

It had been almost two months of random meetings when Draco had sent him a note, asking Harry to meet him outside the Forest. He had arrived, on a cold April night, unsure what to expect, standing silently next to the stoic blonde, just close enough to feel the other's body heat. They looked into the darkness hanging off the trees for a while, until Harry heard Draco clear his throat.

"Three days." The blonde stated, not really a whisper but hard for Harry to hear. Harry's eyes widened and he looked down at Draco's left arm as the other lifted his shirt sleeve to reveal only healing cuts; no new ones. Harry immediately wrapped the Slytherin in a warm hug, whispering again and again how proud he was until Draco eventually pulled away grinning. It was here that Draco kissed Harry for the first time. Later, Draco had admitted that Harry was his inspiration to stop. Harry had responded with a smile and had held Draco's hand all the way back to the castle.

* * *

><p>It was the month before their graduation from Hogwarts. Harry sat on his bed, legs crossed as he sat on his pillow, back against the headboard, trying desperately to understand his N.E.W.T. Material in Potions. He looked up at the blonde across from him, who was silently doing Arithmacy equations, biting the end of his quill and playing with his shirt sleeves which he'd rolled up.<p>

"Draco, stop playing with your sleeves." Harry murmured gently, smiling when the blonde looked up, startled. The Slytherin looked down at his left arm, smiling for maybe the millionth time at what he could see. Pale skin, a handful of white scars; to remember... And no Dark Mark.


End file.
